


Knitting Kneedles in My Throbbing Heart

by My_Soul_and_Perfume



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gift Giving, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, Knitting, Murder Husbands, Past Torture, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, references to season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Soul_and_Perfume/pseuds/My_Soul_and_Perfume
Summary: Based on a Tumblr post: Hannibal comes home to Will knitting a pair of socks but the socks turn out to be super ugly and Will is embarrassed.I...kind of followed the prompt?There's plenty of fluff, I promise!!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta' d and written on my phone! Please excuse any grammar/punctuation mistakes you see!
> 
>  
> 
> Here's the prompt: https://my-soul-and-perfume.tumblr.com/post/181120837900/h4nnibalism-fannibalgrowingcircle-yoonseo

The past hour had become a symphony of muttered curses, grunts, and panting.

Why was it so damn hard to knit a pair of socks?

Will held the knitting sticks (or needles or whatever) awkwardly in his hands, which had become entangled in colorfully grotesque yarn. Checks growing pink, he remembered that whatever struggle he went through to make this things would surely be repaid in gratitude by his partner. Hannibal was a man of appreciation of beauty, yes, but the both of them knew that their best memories came from the ugliest things.

Still, things weren’t looking too great.

The matted and frayed knots were nothing like the meticulously placed Christmas tinsel on the tree; the loud, vibrant colors (that didn't really match now that Will this about it) we're nothing like the elegant, royal reds and gold centerpieces and ornaments around the house; absolutely nothing about Will's gift to Hannibal resembled the love and care of detailed craft that Hannibal fondly cherished.

In his daze, Will didn't notice how his hands began to tremble and his breath began to shake. He looked at the ugly mass beneath his hands and decided that this wasn't any gift worth presenting to Hannibal. Standing from his perch on the window seat of the living room, he threw the knitting needles on the ground and stormed off in search of some whiskey.

* * *

  
Hannibal came home bundled to the nose in scarves, sweaters, and a long winter coat. He set down his  bags before removing his earmuffs and peeling off each layer of clothing. He heard little paws tapping on the hardwood floors, a most likely overexcited mutt scampering to greet him. Sure enough, it was Winston...wearing a sock? Well, not quite. It was loosely attached to one nail, dragging behind him with each step.

Bending down to greet him, Hannibal forewent tending to the groceries to remove the sock from Winston's paw. Then, patting the mutt’s head absently, examined what he presumed to be an abomination of craftsmanship that Winston had dug from the trash. He went there frequently to search for scraps of roast beef and yap at the birds perched there.

Well, it would make a lovely chew toy. 

With little remorse, Hannibal tossed the supposed sock back to Winston and carried on with his schedule. It would be a hectic week of creating new dishes, prepping ingredients, and collecting wine before the feast on Christmas day.

After putting away the food, he stepped upstairs to greet Will. The bedroom door was closed and locked when he tried the knob.

"Will?" He called.

* * *

 

After abandoning his little project in favor of drowning his sorrows in whiskey, Will stomped upstairs to their bedroom, where he lied broken and depressed for about an hour. Snow was falling outside, piling up on the windowsill. He could see snowflakes forming on the glass and knew Hannibal must have been freezing out there. 

Served his pretentious ass right for deciding to prepare for Christmas dinner a week early. 

Still, the sentiment was nice. Will had never had a family dinner before, much less spend his Christmas in a luxurious cabin in the mountains. He never thought he'd be here at all, in fact, with Hannibal in perfect domesticity. Yet there they were.

The mix of emotions swirled up inside Will like a hurricane and he found his lips wobbling, his throat tightening. If only he could show Hannibal just a little bit of appreciation, instead of taking everything they had for granted.

With that, a fire grew in his belly that Will couldn't ignore. He glanced at the clock. He'd have a half hour at most before Hannibal came home. He got out of bed, locked the door tight, and snatched Hannibal's iPad from the nightstand stand, entering his password furiously. He took a deep breath as his fingers hovered above the search bar. He told himself to forget his pride and just be done with it. Without further adieu, he then typed: _how to knit a pair of socks_.

Will didn't have any yarn or knitting needles with him in the room, but he memorized every stitch, hook, and loop he saw. Within minutes, his brain transitioned into hardcore lover mode, and he knew his determination couldn't be crushed.

That is, until Hannibal's voice echoed concernedly through the door. _Will?_

As if he was just caught with his fingers in the cookie jar, Will frantically closed all the tabs and threw the iPad on the nightstand. His cheeks were hot pink and his heart was pounding.

"Uh-uh. Yeah! One second. Sorry, just...wrapping your gift." He immediately winced at the lie. "Hold on, I'm coming," he finished lamely.

When he opened the door, he was faced with Hannibal's amused smile. He probably thought Will was up to something...naughty... behind that closed door. Well, better take advantage of the situation while the opportunity was there.

"What are you smiling about?" he growled playfully, leaning against the door frame.

"Nothing, Will. Though, you reek of adrenaline and sweat," Hannibal replied.

Wills smirk faltered for a moment and he sniffed the air. All that worrying must have worked up a sweat.

"Yeah?" Will challenged, "That's no way to talk to your husband, is it?"

"Forgive me," Hannibal apologized. His eyes sparkled in the warm amber glow of the light. Will couldn't resist running his fingers through silvery black hair and pulling the man close. A sappy smile stretched his lips.

Hannibal's lips touched Will's first. Fun how the sensation always felt like their first kiss. Like fireworks and magic.

When they pulled apart, Will had forgotten all about his earlier worries about Hannibal's gift. A dangerous new desire curled deep in his gut, persuading him to pull Hannibal into their shared room by the front of his shirt.

And the door clicked shut....

* * *

They lied sweaty and breathless, entangled in the sheets hours later. Will told his heart to settle down, while Hannibal sat up to turn on the lamp; it had grown darker and the sun was just gently brushing the tips of the mountain. When he was finished, he laid back down to cradle Will in his arms.

"I had the most interesting welcome home," Hannibal began.

Will couldn't help but appreciate how his voice became a low timber after sex. "Oh yeah?" he asked dreamily.

"Yes. Winston greeted me with something quite peculiar looking on his paw. A sock, it seemed."

Will’s heart stopped. It couldn't be.

"A-a sock? Yours or mine?"

"Neither. It looked very mangled and knotted. It had the most atrocious colors. I assumed Winston was in the trash again, looks for scraps. Perhaps it got snagged on his paw."

"Oh. Wow. That's...odd.” As he spoke, Will slowly untangled himself from Hannibal's arms. “Anything else strange happen to you while you were gone?"

"Actually--"

"You know what? How bout you tell me after I shower? I, Uh, I just...."

Hannibal saw Will's face becoming splotchy and red and sensed that he'd just said something terribly wrong. For the first time since getting in bed, he smelled whiskey on the sheets. He saw the way Will kept clenching his fists and flinching as if he had wounded them somehow, but couldn't control his nervous tick. Before Hannibal could say anything about it, though, Will had already slammed the bathroom door behind him and the hiss of the shower filled the silence.

Hannibal was mystified. Will internalized so many things, he never considered the consequences of habitually denying himself emotional release. There could be demons rising to the surface again. He could be regretting agreeing with Hannibal to run away into the mountains, away from the surrogate family that had adopted him.

Licking his bottom lip, Hannibal decided they would discuss the matter over dinner.

* * *

  
When Will came downstairs, his heart was in a million pieces. Hannibal basically called the gift that he had been working on for hours "trash."

Yeah. He supposed it was garbage, in a way. But still, all those years of traveling from State to State, eating po’ boy sandwiches by a makeshift fire, with only one gift under the plastic miniature tree, taught him it was always the thought that counts. His gift may have looked like trash, but still.... 

Sighing, Will placed his palm on the surface of the kitchen door, hesitating. Hannibal's opinions about how terrible the sock looked played like a broken record in Will's mind. He could feel the shame and embarrassment color his cheeks a scarlet red. He told himself to get over it. Just behind the kitchen door where he was lingering, the best man he could ever ask for was working himself to the bone cooking dinner. He could smell dinner rolls in the oven and rosemary chicken and  sweet pecan pie. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and pushed the door open.

* * *

Hannibal soon understood, as he was cooking, that it was certainly Will's sock that had snagged Winston's paw, whether his husband wants to admit it or not. It was a work in progress, he belatedly realize, that was probably meant for him. When he rummaged the cupboards for a bottle of whiskey he intended to use for the pecan pie, he found it barely containing a few sips at the bottom of the bottle. He started at his reflection in the crystal exterior and had his revelation.

So he threw himself into cooking the best meal compiled of Will's favorite dishes, waiting out the precious few minutes he had left until he he had to face his lover.

Twenty minutes later, there Will was. Hannibal could see him trying to put on a brave face as he sat at the dinner table, waiting for Hannibal to pour him his glass of wine.

Instead, he caressed both Will's cheeks in his hands and kneeled down so that they were eye level. He said, "Thank you for your gift, Will. It was very thoughtful. I am sincerely regretful that it had been presented to e in the way that it had and the words I said to you without understanding the full picture. Can you ever forgive me?"

* * *

  
Well. Will was not expecting that.

He stumbled over his words, not knowing what to say. It was a kid of emotions he had trouble navigating, like he was a tiny boat on a roiling sea. He felt angry, hurt, embarrassed, and hopeful. All he could do was bite his lip and shrug.

"It's fine. Not like you knew what I was up to anyway. I would probably said the same thing."

"I still hurt you. I hope I can make it up to you. First, by filling your belly with your favorite foods."

Hannibal's enthusiasm and desperate need for forgiveness put a smile on Will's lips. He grasped Hannibal's hands and slid them down his cheeks to hover over his lips, and kissed them.

"You're such a sap," he grinned, "And...I forgive you. Let's just... put this whole thing behind us and have a nice dinner. Yeah?"

"Deal," Hannibal smiled.

They drank in each other’s love and company the rest of the night, till the very last hour before midnight, where bodies mingled in a fevered, passionate tango.

  



	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please excuse any incorrect grammar/punctuation!

"Okay, okay. Open your gift first!" Will exclaimed, shoving a large square box into Hannibal's arms. His cheeks were rosy with fruity wine and he felt in high spirits. It was Christmas day and all was right in the world.

"Alright," Hannibal nodded, a nervous grin in his lips. He carefully unwrapped the red and gold gift wrapping paper before peeling off the lid of the box, to reveal what was inside.

It was the ugliest sweater and pair of socks he had ever seen.

Will began to cackle beside him, laughing, "You should see your face! Don't worry. Don't worry, that's not your real gift. Here." Will wasn't foolish enough to think he could knit Hannibal an amazing sweater in just seven days. True, he had given it his all, but he wouldn't even wish these ugly clothes on Jack.

He leaned over the couch to grab the hidden gift and gave it to Hannibal. "Merry Christmas," he smiled.

The box was covered in sleek, black wrapping paper with silver pinstripes and a silver bow. Hannibal unwrapped the box with the same care as the last and wondered why he felt so out of place.

Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't celebrated Christmas with friends in a very long time....

When he saw what was inside, he balked at the sheer beauty of the gifts in his hands. Two framed silhouettes of he and Will, facing each other with intensity. A rack of antlers, ink black, wrapped around each of the silhouettes, meeting together in the middle in a glorious explosion of colorful flowers. At the bottom of each frame, their wedding vows engraved into the wood.

"It's magnificent, Will," he whispered. He fingered the words of Will's vow, hearing the echo in his head.

"Bound by the gift of synchrony, forever intertwined," Will uttered.

"I fear my gift cannot not compare to yours, my beloved," Hannibal said.

"It's the thought that counts," Will said, though he wasn't sure who he was reminding. He absently fingered the band aids that covered his hands.

"Bear with me. This gift  is rather...intimate."

Hannibal stood from the couch after placing his gift gently to the side and began to unbutton his shirt. His flesh was warmed by the fireplace and the blood rushing through his veins. In one fluid lotion, he let the shirt fall to the ground. He turned, baring the expanse of his back to Will.

"Oh my God," Will gasped. He covered his face with his hands and felt tears prickling his eyes. "Hannibal, oh my God. I can't believe you'd...." he couldn't finish his sentence, as his words become choked up in his throat. But Hannibal knew exactly what he was trying to say.

All those years branded by Mason Verger, feeling the ragged scar of ownership on the small of his back. All those lights, Will kissing the flesh there, exuding regret. Hannibal desired a new design, a new beginning that would bring them into the new year with no doubts about who belonged to whom. So, he'd gotten a quick procedure done to put a skin graft there and re-branded his flesh, this time with the initials WG.

Hannibal took a deep breath before turning around. Will was weeping into his hands silently.

"Will," he called, hoping to make his husband look at him, "Don't hide yourself from me, my beloved."

"Sorry," Will hiccupped, "I just...God, that was so beautiful. You didn't have to do that for me." Will sniffled and finally gazed into Hannibal's eyes.

"I wanted to do it for you and I. To commemorate all we have been through and what is to come. Your hand in marriage was only the beginning."

Will gave a wobbly smile.

It was at that exact moment that Winston decoded to jump up from his bed beside the couch into Will's lap and lick his tears. Will laughed, swatting him away. "Down, boy!"

"I raise a toast," Hannibal said Penny's later, having grabbed both their wines from the coffee table. Will talk his and raised in the air. "To us."

"To us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist doing an epilogue. Hoped you guys enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](my-soul-and-perfume.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, murder fam!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr <3 <3 <3 @My-Soul-and-Perfume


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